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Matthew Cooperman


Spool 28

piratical sutures the
one I love
her truncations stitch
and stitch again
the bird leaves
and she returns
land thief dove
with a yarn
believe the dream
the forehead blossoms
forwards a tender
in the nose
afternoon twirls her
fingers in bowls
of orchids threads
the wrist a
stain of stamen
an air of
gloving the one
I love is
sails over seas
we return for
shelter the shortened
of seen I
am seeing and
you see back
an are and
oar in saying


no ocean water
in the lightning
today it struck
the house afire
aftermath of ozone
fence parts and
staves how true
fire trucks run
red number fives
rain came down
and washed mountains
we live brinked
to flood plain
or bark so
thin it's like
our skin's flayed
beyond the happenings
of local sky
I'm medieval renderings
and weather all
inside us whether
grief or surprise
our heart the
visium meta pump
lightning catches such
fo'sails of conception
a flash of
light his rain
her emblem why
water's warm in
Carthage or waves
hot in Guam
the cistern pools
the pebble rolls


drips of the
daily my roof
or morphine glows
soothes suffering goes
in swirls the
pain releases I
am larger now
and rearrange rage
these made piles
small continents lawns
order the sound
of the sea
my pale Ramon
is a child
resembling a true
measure of hunger
this counting is
a stave to
build a stair
when the wander's
warm the drip
drops hot ways
releases the clutch
and family too
go have joy
no passion lacks
be the stair
let down be
a habit spell
of me is
you emerging drip
by drip my
life in teacups
spills and spools
good thread wonders
what we need
pain and the
bright child's green


all a glow
what immolates itself
and those around
a burning fire
is a crowd
struck down how
control the car
looked innocent as
it sped away
women inside a
twitter with market
and evening plans
they're just like
us a reason
to hurry a
reason to hate
who among us
hasn't been foreign
to ourselves the
correspondent other she
wears a belt
of fire alive
arrange the particles
order a bloom
a country aims
its city outward
we are alike
in myriad ways
the drip of
faucet bothers all
the women hurry
the men take
aim a black
bomb matter is
world pebble blown
what we need
more gentle heart